The Love that Dare Not Speak Its Name
by artemis-nz
Summary: Misaki might just be turning into a voyeur. Usagi/Misaki.


Misaki holds his breath as Usagi mutters something unintelligible and rolls over, long fingers twitching before stillness settles over the scene again. Outside, the pitter-patter of steady rainfall is like a soft accompaniment. To what, Misaki isn't exactly sure. But it's soothing somehow, muffling out the rest of the world and trapping them here; their own private corner of the universe. Nothing and nobody else exists. Just this one scene, this single room.

Misaki doesn't often get to see Usagi like this. He might take cat naps during the day, when Misaki is in class, but he's usually awake again and prowling the apartment restlessly, a caged tiger, by the time Misaki gets back home. After dinner, Usagi often writes late into the night, the soft clicking of the keyboard Misaki's lullaby. But _this_. This is something Misaki hugs to himself – a small, secret thing that only he's allowed to see. If he's lucky.

Misaki loves the lines of him. He traces with his eyes the way Usagi's hands are splayed out beside him, curled inwards ever so slightly and for once nearly completely still. He devours the sight of Usagi's hair flopping unkempt over closed eyelids, a few loose strands fluttering slightly when he breathes. He stares at Usagi's face, noting every detail and hoarding it jealously away for himself: Usagi's forehead is utterly relaxed, no frown of concentration to break the serenity. It makes him look oddly young. His mouth is not turned up at the corners in a predatory smirk, nor pulled down in frustration or annoyance. Usagi is utterly peaceful. Vulnerable. Beautiful, when the world ceases to weigh him down and the barriers that so carefully guard him from it are forgotten in sleep.

But something always happens to break the spell. This time it's the beep from a cellphone somewhere in Usagi's study signalling mail, and Usagi sighs as he wakes, sheets rustling beneath him. It's one more second of pale, long-limbed perfection in the moment just before Usagi emerges from the surface. His body stretches, muscles flexing, normally crisp shirt rumpled and the tie nowhere to be seen.

Then his eyes snap open, pinning Misaki where he sits.

Frozen in place, he can only gape back as Usagi simply looks at him for a full minute, blurry-eyed gaze struggling to focus on the here and now.

Misaki finally gathers his wits enough to stutter out something vaguely coherent. "Uh... I'll just go while you-"

"-Were you watching me?"

"As if I would!" Misaki scoffs.

"You were watching me." Misaki can't tell if Usagi is pleased or pissed off. It's clear he doesn't believe Misaki's denial either way.

"I need to go pick up ingredients for dinner", he evades.

"Wait. Come here." It's on the tip of his tongue for Misaki to hotly refuse, but when Usagi crooks a finger and beckons him closer with it, it's like Misaki is powerless to stop his body from obeying.

"What?" he says, trying for an impatient air.

"Bend down a little." Oh, Misaki can see where _this_ is going. Again though, his traitorous body gets the better of him. It must be the voice Usagi is using, rumbling and husky from sleep.

When Misaki's ear is close enough so that he can feel the writer's breath on it (he is sure he must be blushing furiously), Usagi slides his hand over one of Misaki's wrists. "I love you", he says. "Misaki. I love you."

It's a mad scramble for Misaki to get away, force some air back into his lungs, convince his face not to spontaneously burst into flame. Usagi laughs softly and releases him, and Misaki almost trips in his haste to escape.

"Voyeurism is only something to be ashamed of when it's someone other than me you're admiring", Usagi tells him, and his tone is at least thankfully back to its usual, degenerate drawl.

"Shut up! I'm going."

"Wait for me. I'll go with you."

"I wanted to walk."

"Good. Some fresh air will wake me up."

"It's raining!"

Usagi grins. "We can share an umbrella."

Luckily Misaki is already halfway down the stairs by this point, so Usagi can't see the look that passes over his face. Sheer horror... mixed with the barest hint of something more. He dares not name it – not even to himself.

Awake or asleep, Usagi will be the death of him.


End file.
